


From Now On

by engswz



Category: Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engswz/pseuds/engswz
Summary: England are about to win the Six Nations, but an inappropriate comment makes Sam realise Tom has other things on his mind.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	From Now On

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have written in a long time, and I have read through it several times, but I am sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> During France vs. Ireland the BBC commentary made a bulimia 'joke' after one of the Irish players vomited on the pitch, and this is based on that. Therefore a warning that it is a fic about eating disorders.

“Bulimia?”

As soon as Sam heard the word through the television speakers his eyes darted towards Tom. From where he was sat, towards the back of the group, he could only see the back of his head. All he knew was that he hadn’t moved. Maybe he hadn’t heard it, but he knew that wasn’t likely with the volume of their huge television being as high as it was.

Another second or two passed and a few of the squad went to the bar during a break in play, while Sam took the opportunity to move to the now empty chair behind Tom and lean forward, stopping slightly behind his left ear. “You okay?”

A startled Tom immediately jumped in his seat before turning around. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam could sense that something was bothering him, but if he persisted with his questions Tom would insist it was only him that was causing him problems. Instead he sat back and continued to watch the game, while occasionally stealing a glance at the other flanker.

And then Ben turned towards no one in particular and asked, “that bulimia comment was a bit inappropriate, wasn’t it?”

Tom didn’t look anywhere other than at the screen. If he even dared to blink he worried that his eyes might start to water and give away everything he was trying to hide from Sam and rest of the team. His hands were clasped together on his thighs, hiding the fact that he was shaking slightly.

“Tom…”

Sam’s hand touched his shoulder and he immediately shot up from his seat and walked out of the hotel bar.

Sam slowly followed him out of the room, relieved that everyone else was too preoccupied with the game to notice their exits. By the time he entered the corridor Tom was nowhere to be seen. He searched the hotel reception and outside before realising he must have returned to their room.

He entered the room to find the television on with the France vs. Ireland game playing, however Tom was nowhere to be seen. His phone was on the bed, but there was no sign of the other flanker.

As soon as Sam noticed the bathroom door was closed, he leaped across the room and banged on the woodwork repeatedly. “Tom! Open the fucking door!” He lowered the door handle, surprised it had been left unlocked, and pushed open the door.

Inside, Tom hurriedly pulled up his shorts and stretched his arm forward to flush the toilet. As he walked towards the sink to wash his hands, he used the mirror to make eye contact with Sam as he asked, “what the actual fuck, Sam?”

“I thought…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I thought you…”

“I know what you thought,” Tom snapped as he pushed past him to return to the bedroom. He sat himself on the edge of his bed and glared at the other man. “Can I not go for a piss now without you thinking I’m being sick?”

Sam still hadn’t moved. The moment he saw the bathroom door closed he had panicked, and he was struggling to overcome the sudden rush of emotions caused by what he was sure Tom was doing in the bathroom, what he had been doing for months.

“Making yourself sick,” Sam eventually said as he sat on the edge of the other bed.

“What?”

“It’s not just 'being sick'. I didn’t think you were just 'being sick'.” Sam’s voice was quiet and part of him hoped Tom couldn’t hear him above the Italian commentary, but as he glanced upwards he noticed the other flanker reach for the remote and mute the television. Silence filled the room for a few seconds.

“Sam…” Tom didn’t know what he was about to say but felt like he had to say something. He was relieved when he was interrupted.

“I know I shouldn’t think that you’re…” He paused, exhaling loudly. “And I don’t, not all the time, but when I saw the bathroom door closed, after you had to hear that stupid comment, it was all I could think.”

Tom’s expression began to soften as he started to realise just how much he had worried Sam.

Sam remained the only player in the team who knew his secret, and he was aware it cannot have been easy for him to have found out. He hadn’t told his family for several reasons and, while Sam had spent several weeks of lockdown trying to convince him to tell his parents, or Ben, he stopped as soon as Tom agreed to contact the RPA for support.

Sam knew Tom had regularly been in contact with the professionals, but he didn’t know if it was helping because Tom refused to talk about it, immediately changing the topic of conversation the moment Sam even tried to mention it.

“I’m sorry.” It was barely a whisper, but Sam heard him.

Sam smiled weakly. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve put you in this position.”

“Tom, please, it’s not your fault. You have bulimia.”

“Don’t say that,” Tom said, shaking his head.

“What? Bulimia?” It was then that Sam realised Tom had never actually said the word, at least in front of him. He could see that it was making Tom uncomfortable as he shuffled his body on the bed and refused to look up at him. “Okay. As long as you’re not denying that’s what you’re doing.”

“I’m not,” Tom quickly replied. “I promise.”

“Be honest with me. Did that comment about Healy bother you?”

There was a long pause as Tom carefully considered his response, but he knew that if he didn’t tell the truth Sam would most likely see right through him. He usually did. “Um, I dunno. I mean, I know it was just a joke.”

“But?”

“I didn’t find it funny.” Tom’s tone had suddenly changed. His voice was quieter.

“It wasn’t funny, that’s why.”

“I shouldn’t let it bother me. I tried to ignore it but I can’t stop fucking thinking about it. I should be downstairs celebrating with everyone, but I feel like…” Tom couldn’t prevent himself sniffling, but tried to hide it by lifting his hoody over the lower half of his face. “I just feel like a fraud.”

“Tom…”

“He wouldn’t have said it if he believed any rugby player could do something like that. I mean, I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in, so why would I need to do that to myself?”

“Stop…”

“I’ve played in a World Cup final. I’m about to win the Six Nations. I scored a try for England today. Everything Ben and I dreamed of, I’m fucking doing it. Everything is fucking great.” By then he could no longer hold back the tears that were stinging his eyes. He lowered his head into his hands where his tears soaked into his outstretched sleeves.

Sam’s heart immediately sank at the sight of Tom crying. He had only ever seen Tom cry once and that was after the World Cup final, but this was different. This time Sam wasn’t fighting back his own tears because of the pain he was also feeling, but rather the intense pain he could see Tom was going through and had been going through for months.

Almost a minute passed before Sam couldn’t take it any longer and he joined Tom on his bed, pulling his shaking body into his and holding him tightly. Burying his head into his hair and gripping his shoulder, he thought about saying something, but there was nothing he could say. He just needed Tom to know he was there.

“I haven’t, you know, for a bit. Two or three months.”

Sam, surprised to hear his voice after a prolonged silence, pulled himself away from Tom and shuffled across the bed, sitting far enough away to see his face clearly but close enough to lean forward and place a supportive hand on his thigh. “Yeah?”

“It’s not long. I mean, I’ve gone several weeks without doing it before. I’m not stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Sam said.

“But it’s helping, you know, talking to someone who understands and isn’t involved in the rugby,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t think a lot of people in rugby would understand.”

“I don’t think they would either.”

“Maybe you’re the exception.”

“I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t say I understand.”

“Yeah, true. But neither do I really.” Tom sighed. “But I mean you haven’t asked questions, about why I do it. If people found out, coaches, everyone, they’d just wonder why I’m trying to ruin my body. And I'm not.”

“I don’t think your family would think that.”

“Yeah, maybe not. But I don’t want them to worry. I don’t want them to be worried every time I’m away from home. They’d ring me all the time, and when I am at home they would…”

“Try and knock the bathroom door down when you go for a piss?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, probably.”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, I’ll try not to do that again, and yeah, I know I rang you a lot in lockdown, but I don’t want you to think that was just me checking up on you.”

“Oh, come on.” Tom raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “I know you never actually asked if I’d, you know, but no one else on the team asked if I was okay two or three times a day.”

“It wasn’t two or three…”

“Some days it was,” Tom interrupted. “It didn’t bother me. It meant I had someone to speak to who wasn’t Ben. Or the cats.”

Sam laughed. “Fucking hell, Thomas.”

“They’re good listeners,” Tom replied defensively. When he looked up and noticed Sam was still laughing he quickly picked up the nearest pillow and swiped it across the other flanker’s arm.

Sam reacted quickly to swat it away from him and thought about returning the favour, but instead decided Tom’s reaction had provided him with enough satisfaction. “I would never come between you and your cats.”

“Fuck off.” He was desperately trying to disguise a smile, but it was futile.

“We should probably go back down before everyone wonders where we are,” Sam said, trying to hide his disappointment. As much as he wanted to celebrate their likely upcoming victory with the team, he wouldn’t have minded watching some more of the game with only Tom for company.

“Yeah, probably.” Tom stood up and walked back into the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he shook his head as soon as he noticed the redness of his eyes. “Maybe five more minutes. You can go down if you want and I’ll meet you there.”

Sam shrugged. “Nah, I’ll keep you company.”

Tom watched as Sam made himself comfortable on his bed, lying back against one of the pillows and turning his head towards the game on the television. “I guess I’ll make the teas then.”

For a few minutes neither said a word. They both had their eyes on France vs. Ireland as the sound of the kettle boiling filled the room. As soon as the drinks were made Tom carefully carried them over to his bed where Sam sat up to accept his with a smile of appreciation.

The smile was quickly replaced by a look of disgust as soon as he took a sip from the cup. “Is that a northern thing? Putting too much milk in?”

“No, I just, I dunno, makes it taste less like average hotel tea.” Tom shrugged and lifted his cup to his mouth. “It’s fine.”

Sam reached over Tom to place his cup on the bedside table, and for a while they both leaned back against the pillow’s on Tom’s bed and watched the game, content in the silence. It wasn’t until France scored their fourth try that they moved from their positions on the bed.

Tom climbed down to the floor and Sam followed. Turning around with a huge smile, Tom said, “we’re actually going to win the Six Nations, aren’t we?”

Sam returned the smile and allowed himself to be led out of the room by Tom, who had excitedly grabbed hold of his hand.

-

The celebrations had been short and somewhat calm. Teammates had commented about how it felt ‘different’ to usual, but for Tom and Sam they had nothing to compare it to other than how they imagined it would be since they had first dreamed about it as children. They didn’t imagine not being allowed to hug their teammates or cheer too loudly or spend all night getting drunk surrounded by the people they had worked alongside to achieve their goal.

Instead they shared a few drinks, socially distanced in the hotel bar, before returning to their hotel rooms. Sam lay forward on his bed and rang his parents while Tom was sat at the desk on FaceTime to his parents and sister.

After a while both hung up and Tom turned around to face Sam. Both were exhausted but still couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t the experience they thought it would be, but they had still won the Six Nations, even if it had taken them nine months.

“Mum and dad say hi,” Tom said. “And congratulations.”

“Mine said they’re so glad I can celebrate with ‘the pleasant boy from up north’.”

Tom laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll take that.”

“You speak to Ben?”

Tom pulled the charging wire out of his phone and placed the device on the bedside table before dropping his aching body onto his bed. “Nah, got a message from him. But he’s still feeling shit from being ill so mum said I should let him sleep.”

“Covid?”

Tom nodded. “So, yeah, I’m staying with my parents next week until he’s out of isolation.”

“Ah, shit, you didn’t say.”

“Yeah, he’s not too bad. I’ll speak to him tomorrow when we land.” Tom got up and opened the mini bar, searching through their options for the evening. “Another beer?”

“Yes,” Sam replied without hesitation.

Tom opened a couple of bottles and passed one to Sam. Two or three bottles later they were struggling to stay awake on Sam’s bed.

“Tom?”

“Mm,” Tom mumbled into the pillow his arms were wrapped around.

“Can I have my bed back?”

His eyes opened, widening more as soon as he realised how close Sam was to him. “Ah, shit, sorry.” He sat upright but immediately regretted it when the number of beers he had consumed since the final whistle began to hit him in a strong wave of dizziness. Dropping his head into his hands, he began to dread the flight home in only a few hours.

Sam wanted to be amused by the state Tom found himself him, but he was feeling more than slightly tipsy himself as he walked towards the bathroom, trying to avoid several obstacles scattered around their hotel room.

“Thanks, you know, for tonight.”

Sam turned around, surprised to hear Tom’s voice again. He found the other flanker staring across the room at him, suddenly appearing more sober than he had moments earlier. “For what?”

“Knowing me better than I know myself.” Tom laughed awkwardly. “That sounded less weird in my head. Fuck.”

Sam laughed but found himself nodding. “It made sense, I think,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re talking about it.”

“Do you really think I should tell my family?”

“Look, Tom, it’s not my decision. But yeah, I think, the longer you wait, the harder it will be. You and Ben are so close and...”

“Most of the time,” Tom interrupted, but Sam wasn’t impressed.

He ignored him and continued. “If Ben had a huge secret, would he tell you?”

Tom hesitated but not because he didn’t know the answer. “Yeah, I think so. I hope so.”

“Would you want to know?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“You should tell him. When you’ve told Ben it will be easier to speak to the rest of your family, but you can’t hide this from them forever because it’s not going to go away and they will start to notice something is going on.”

“I know you’re right,” Tom admitted. He pouted childishly. “You shouldn’t be this smart when you’re pissed.”

“I’m fine. You’re the one who’s going to be struggling tomorrow.” Before Tom could offer a retort he had shut himself in the bathroom.

When he was gone Tom dragged himself across the room and into his own bed, removing his hoody and shorts along the way. His exhaustion was already trying to take over, but he didn’t want the night to end yet. If he couldn’t celebrate with the team and his family, alone with Sam was never an option he would refuse.

Sam returned to his bed to find Tom grinning at him, only his head visible with the covers tightly wrapped around his body. Smiling nervously, he asked, “what?”

“We won the Six Nations.”

“Yeah.” Sam smiled. “That’s fucking good, isn’t it?”

“You’re fucking good,” Tom replied, immediately realising he had allowed his impulsive drunk side to take over. But he didn’t regret it. He wanted Sam to know and he hoped he knew he wasn’t just talking about rugby.

“Not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

Tom smiled and, unable to fight off his tiredness any longer, his eyes closed.

Sam reached across to switch off the light, before closing his eyes. He didn’t sleep for a while. He wanted to blame the excitement of winning the Six Nations, and that was partly true, but it was mostly because he was replaying his evening with Tom in his mind. As much as he hoped their conversations would be enough to help Tom’s recovery, he knew it wasn’t that simple. However, he did have hope that Tom would be more honest with him in the future, and he couldn’t ask for more than that.


End file.
